Simon nodded. He followed Howard to the door, then stopped on the porch to have another long look at Billie. She was sitting on one of the barstools, a half-eaten burger in front of her. She kicked her legs against the wooden rail that wrapped the deck, hands under her chin as she stared out at the ocean.
In profile, with somewhat shorter hair, she could have been him at age seven. The blood test was unnecessary, except in legal matters. That was his daughter. An unexpected pain gripped his chest, squeezing. “Good night, princess,” he called, waving to her. They would have plenty of time to get to know each other. Later.
Simon got in his car and drove back to the beach. 15
Scooter gave it about ten more minutes before Andy was going to come back into the bedroom to chide him that they were going to be late and that he looked fine, and what the hell was he worried about anyway?